


Mine

by oneforyourfire



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 16:43:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7722172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneforyourfire/pseuds/oneforyourfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kyungsoo lets himself be disarmed, lets himself be charmed (valentine's day sex)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mine

**Author's Note:**

> a softer ksoo than im used to writing

Joonmyun had messaged him this morning on his morning commute, asking him to come over right after work with a winky face emoji, and Kyungsoo had _known_ , braced himself for it accordingly. But Kyungsoo anticipating it, it honestly doesn't make it any less cheesy, any less _awful_. The entire, ostentatious display of it: lit candles, uncharacteristically spotless floor, and on the bed Joonmyun’s nice comforter, nice sheets, flavored lube—watermelon, Joonmyun’s favorite—as well as an array of condoms, red rose petals.

It’s their first Valentine’s Day together, and of _course_ Joonmyun had gone over the top. Of _course_ , he’d taken the holiday to heart.

Kyungsoo had honestly been expecting him naked, too, spread open on the mattress already, a vision of pale, soft beauty, urging him forward to claim and enjoy, but no, he's still fully dressed, the blood red of his buttonup shirt stark and beautiful against his pale throat. And Kyungsoo—with a painful ache in his chest—imagines Joonmyun coming home early enough to shower, change, apply cologne, decorate the room, all of it just just just for Kyungsoo's benefit, though definitely not towards Kyungsoo's tastes.

The ache only blooms, crests, when Joonmyun beckons him forward with an outstretched palm, a soft, shy "Do Kyungsoo, will you be my valentine?" He's smiling as he asks, and the candlelight casts golden and soft over his face, dancing over the curl of his upturned cheeks.

There's no artifice in the gesture, cliched as it may be. And that maybe almost makes it worse, the utter sincreity of it, just how badly Joonmyun still wants to woo him, impress him, how much that still means to him.

And biting back a laugh, swallowing heavily, Kyungsoo is helplessly endeared, chest heavy with it as he steps further into Joonmyun's familiar room.

It's only been a couple of months, but Kyungsoo is starting to feel like he belongs here—maybe, maybe even with some permanence, a fixture as lasting as Joonmyun's decorative nautical maps, painstakingly arranged periodicals, mismatched furniture.

Every time he visits, Kyungsoo finds himself wanting to stay longer, longer, longer.

Joonmyun is disarming in his earnest affection, utterly perfect for his soft, charming smiles and soft, sincere _I love you_ s and soft, hesitant fingertips, dancing quickly over Kyungsoo's clothed arm, skin seeking skin when Kyungsoo breathes out an only-slightly-mortified _yes_.

Urging him forward with a soft sound of wanting, Joonmyun coaxes him into a soft, sweet kiss, fingers coming up to cradle his cheeks, his jawline, finally his neck, holding him there as he eases his mouth open press by press. The kiss is deep, slow, consuming, utterly disarming, raw with want and heavy with potential.

Sighing, melting into Joonmyun's kiss, touch, kissing back, touching back, holding and cradling and treasuring and relishing back, too, Kyungsoo lets himself be disarmed, lets himself be charmed. And he lets himself be guided, urged, falling back against the mattress with a breathless, only slightly deprecating laugh. It's swallowed quickly enough by Joonmyun's warm, wet mouth, coaxed away with Joonmyun's insistent fingers at his waist.

The scattered rose petals tickle, stick to his cheeks, his throat, his bare forearms, bare wrists, as Joonmyun slides over him. And Joonmyun, breathless and dark-eyed above him, repeats his earlier question, asks if Kyungsoo is really his valentine, and if that means that Joonmyun's allowed to claim him like he's been _aching_ to all day. Neck lolling to the side as Joonmyun's mouth drags over his throat, Kyungsoo agrees with an unsteady moan, fingers twisting into the soft material of Joonmyun's shirt, wrinkling it with the force of his grip. Joonmyun arches into it with a heavy groan.

"Joonmyun hyung," Kyungsoo cajoles, face heating but body melting, pliant, imploring in spite of himself. "Come on and claim me like you've been aching to all day."

Joonmyun does, or at least decides to. But it's slow, luxurious, as if he's discovering his skin for the first time. He strips him bare, peeling layer by layer, his mouth, his fingers quickly following. Humming against him with heavy, heady approval and love, he meanders hot and wet and reverent down his body, tracing over every mole, every patch of sensitive, revealed skin, fingers mapping, grazing, teasing all the while. He's extra thorough, extra wonderful, extra earnest, extra slow tonight, as if to assure them both that he's truly claiming, and Kyungsoo's chest heaves, trembling pants devolving into soft almost-whimpers as Joonmyun's nose drags over his navel, lips whisper over his hipbones. Kyungsoo twists his fingers into Joonmyun's nice comforter, crushing fistfuls of soft petals and spine bowing sharply as he tugs the blanket halfway off the bed, and Joonmyun only continues to kiss and lick and touch and bite and claim.

All too soon, he's sliding off Kyungsoo's pants, his boxers, his socks, nosing at his cock, his fingers tightening along Kyungsoo's bare thighs, thumbs pressing in maddeningly small, tight circles. The lazy caress has pleasure and heat and desire simmering beneath his skin, and Kyungsoo—frustrated—is struggling not to whine, not to twist and claw and demand more, faster, longer, a real claiming, what he's due as Joonmyun's valentine.

Joonmyun's small hands somehow feel so strong, so grounding and arresting as they span his hips, press him down firmly. And Joonmyun drags the flat of his tongue along the underside of his cock once, humming softly as Kyungsoo's legs jerk. And then he's urging Kyungsoo's legs over his shoulders, mouthing lower, reaching for his flavored lube, and Kyungsoo does whine then, deep wth desire, weak with want, body jerking as Joonmyun eases his first finger inside.

He's slow with this, too, thorough with this, too, mouthing excruciatingly succulent at his bare, tense inner thigh as he eases a second, third finger inside, curling, fanning, smiling against his skin as Kyungsoo whines again. Longer, louder, and Joonmyun thrusts his fingers inside over and over and over again until Kyungsoo's voice, his control feels raw and ruined.

Joonmyun's mouth shifts, tongue searing as it moves up up up, and Kyungsoo chokes on a moan, fingers scraping over Joonmyun's scalp in shaky encouragement.

Squeezing his hip once in quiet warning, easing the muscle lax and loose, Joonmyun slides his fingers free, replaces them with his tongue. More impatient, he drags, teases at his rim only once, twice, before spearing, trying to guide it inside. All warm, wet, wonderfully soft, beautifully insistent and solid and skilled, Joonmyun hums like the synthetic watermelon, Kyungsoo's own skin are the hottest thing he's ever tasted, and a heavy, helpless tremor crashes through Kyungsoo's body. His head collapses back against the mattress, lips parting to drag against the sheets, throat stuck on a silent scream as Joonmyun swirls his tongue, curls his fingers.

Fingers and mouth working in tandem, Joonmyun tears more and more sounds out of Kyungsoo's lips, coaxes more and more helpless quakes from his body.

Kyungsoo almost sobs when Joonmyun stops—brief, but utterly devastating—his small, sure, strong, steady hands maneuvering him, tilting him to better the angle. But he's quick to press his fingers inside once more, mouth following soon after, and Joonmyun licks between his fingers, moaning against puckered, quivering skin as Kyungsoo's writhes towards the movement, chasing the wet friction, scrambling, eager for more. He tugs at Joonmyun's hair, forces him harder, and Joonmyun moans again, pants against him with a ruined sound of wanting that vibrates through Kyungsoo's entire body.

Gasping sharply, Kyungsoo bites his lip hard then lets it pop free, lets Joonmyun hear just how good it feels. A Valentine's Day gift as he whimpers about how it's so good. So good, so good, hyung. Eat me out so fucking good. Love your mouth. Never, never, never stop.

Hips twisting, muscles quivering, he rocks down onto Joonmyun's face, fingers tugging, thighs trembling, body contorting with a silent plea, silent demand for more.

And Joonmyun continues to moan against him, fingers, tongue pressing more insistently, more perfectly inside. Kyungsoo's breath hitches, spine bows, chin crashes against his own collarbone. Through heavy eyelashes, he can see Joonmyun rutting down onto the mattress, can see the painfully aroused tilt of his eyebrows and the flush of his face. He wants him, _fuck_ he wants him.

But Kyungsoo knows that even then Joonmyun could spend hours there, drag it out until Kyungsoo has tears streaming down his face, his voice raw and ruined from how heavily he's moaning, how desperately he’s swallowing down the urge to fucking beg for it.

"Gonna fuck me?" he asks, goading in spite of his wavery tone, labored breathing, and the muscles beneath Joonmyun's shoulders ripple with a tremor. Heavy and helpless, it wracks through Kyungsoo's body, too.

"Yes," Joonmyun agrees, voice husky, fingers sure as they spread just once more, press just once more before pulling free. "I want to be inside you so badly."

"Then _fuck_ me, hyung."

And Joonmyun does just that, stripping his clothes, sliding a condom in place, then sliding inside him. Heavy and hot and pulsing and so wonderfully thick inside of him. Kyungsoo pants as he breathes past the delicious ache of it.

And Joonmyun, thankfully, isn't slow with this either, the pace of his hips steady, the force of his thrusts sure, and Kyungsoo moans openly—another Valentine's Day present, he reasons— as his legs wrap around Joonmyun's waist, hips fucking back towards every breathtaking push of Joonmyun's cock.

Kyungsoo's arms wrap around Joonmyun's shoulders, too, and he relishes the way that Joonmyun's muscle ripple beneath his palms as he thrusts into him again, harder, deeper, his lean muscles, firm skin dragging beneath Kyungsoo's greedy palms.

Clinging tight, groaning for more, Kyungsoo lets his head loll back, an invitation for Joonmyun's mouth, his praise, hot and wet and seared over his thundering pulse. His teeth scrape as Kyungsoo's moan stutter, hiccup, crest, break.

He's breaking. He's breaking.

"Hyung," he pants, just to hear Joonmyun groan, just to feel his cock pulse inside him, be rewarded with a harder, deeper thrust, a searing, sibilant rasp of his name. "Joonmyun hyung."

And Joonmyun's hips swivel in a way that has Kyungsoo seeing stars, clawing at him for more.

_Right there, just like that, and right fucking there, hyung, fuck, fuck, fuck._

Joonmyun readily gives, Kyungsoo greedily claims. And the pleasure continues to build and build and build, racing through his veins, tearing at his resolve. It's leaching his breath, quivering through his limbs as the heat coils tighter and tighter the more Joonmyun touches, the more Kyungsoo needs.

“Hyung,” he whimpers, again, more needily, more frayed as Joonmyun's cock drags over his prostrate, Joonmyun's teeth drag over his throat, Joonmyun's skin drags over own. "Hyung. Joonmyun _hyung_."

Lips at his collarbone, hair at his throat, voice impossibly deep and strained with the request, Joonmyun asks him to touch himself. Touch himself and please fucking _come_ , just like that, come on, Kyungsoo please, fuck please, just for him.

A gift, another gift, Kyungsoo thinks, delirious and dazed with pleasure. And Joonmyun trembling and moaning helplessly, too, he’s the absolute safest place to fall apart, Kyungsoo knows, clinging tight as everything shatters.

And in the lax, languid afterglow, Joonmyun is still panting, smiling breathlessly as he manages to raise himself on weak, shaky arms. Flushed from his cheeks to his cheeks to his chest, skin glistening with the sweat, hair disheveled and eyes soft, he's beautiful, and he's wholly Kyungsoo's.

Kyungsoo's his, too, though, and Joonmyun reminds him with a lazy kiss to his chin, a soft, possesive "My Kyungsoo. My valentine. Mine. Mine. Mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> crossposted from my lj comm


End file.
